Vivian Antionette Blanch
by HouseOfGlass
Summary: One of Alcatraz's most secret and dangerous inmate resurfaces and wreaks havoc. Can the team stop her? A different story of how they got the thrid key.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The replica of Alcatraz, now with some inmates occupying it's cells, was bright. Everything was white, as usual. Hauser walked down the cell block, checking on the inmates. Everything looked ship shape, until he came to the second cell. Ernest Cobb, number 2047. He looked even odder than usual, he was awkwardly fidgeting with his hands, and just looking stressed out, and just a little panicked.

"What's wrong, 2047?" Hauser sighed.

"I think. I feel. . ." He went silent again. "Oh come on. I dont have all day." He was still silent. Hauser started to turn around and walk back.

"She's next."He finally said. Hauser paused.

"What? Who are you talking about?"He said, turning back around. "You already shot one of us how , why in the world do you think you will be able to do it again?"

" I shouldn't have to even say her name for you to know who I am talking about." He said, slowly turning his head to face him. And something finally clicked.

"Jesus." He muttered, then pivoted and walked as fast as he could down the hallway. This could get ugly.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Makeup was strewn all over the vanity surface. Only a single light shone down onto the flat counter, the rest of the small hotel room was completely black. A hand picks up a tube of black eyeliner and wipes it across the closed, already makeup covered lid.

"When do you want me to do it?" A female voice cuts through the silence.

"Today?" After doing the other lid, the hand places the eyeliner back on the vanity and picks up a tube of lipstick instead.

"For how much? This takes a lot of effort you know. I risk a lot." The lipstick is swiped across a pair of lips, and then the hand extends it and starts to write something across the mirror.

"That's perfect. How many do you want dead?" The voice says again, and then leans back to admire the handiwork on the mirror. Written across it in all capital letters with the bright lipstick is the word 'KILLER'. And in the reflection of the reflective surface is a young woman, with long wild black hair, porcelain skin and light blue eyes that give her the look of a possessed person. She holds the hotel phone to one ear, and fiddles with it's cord.

"That I can do. Easy." She laughs, and tosses her hair back. "I find it quite sad that you doubt my abilities so easily. I've done this before. Quite often if I may add." She pauses, and waits for the person on the other line to respond. Her face is stern, then creeps up into a sinister smile.

"I'm a twisted individual. I'm glad you recognize that. Next time you hear of me, it will probably be on the news." She gently lays the phone down with two of her fingers and then cracks her knuckles and neck. She then stands up, and grabs a large basket from the softly lit corner, along with a heavy-looking padded bag. She slings the bag over her shoulder, and then leaves. The light is still on, and the lipstick on the mirror remains. Then the door clicks shut.

So. . . What do you guys think? I love Alcatraz, and Ernest Cobb is definatley my favorite character, so of course I'm going to throw him in there! :)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

***DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters or any rights to them except for Vivian! So please don't sue! :) **

It was a fairly slow day at Headquarters. Hauser was off wherever the inmates were being held with Lucy, Rebecca was digging through some files, and Doc was on the computer – as usual. There had been no sign of a sixty-three in a while, and things were starting to get boring. They still had to find the third key, as the curiosity to whatever was behind that door was killing them. It was practically silent for once, the only sounds was the soft rustling of papers until a loud beeping came from the computer.

"What is it?" Rebecca asked, abandoning her files and going over to look. Doc pointed to the screen.

"Possible sixty-three. There's been a mass killing near the Embarcadero." They both looked at each other.

"Well then lets go."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

About twenty minutes later, they arrived on the scene. And frankly, it wasn't a pretty one. A bunch of people lay dead; in the street, surrounding shops, everywhere. All of them had single gold arrows protruding from their chests.

"What kind of a person kills people with arrows?" Rebecca asked, as they stepped over bodies.

"I honestly don't know. I don't remember a sixty-three that ever killed this way. It was to old-fashioned I guess." Doc responded.

"Well, we have to find out. This is weird." Both of them continued poking around the crime scene. Coroners were finally starting to clear away some of the bodies, and a news van or two had already pulled up. Rebecca turned around. On one of the arrows impaling a man, there was a slip of paper attached.

"What's this?" She pointed to it.

"Looks like a note of some sort."

"Do you think we should take it? It could be important. It could lead us to the third key if a sixty-three did do all this."

"I vote yes. Hurry though." He said. But instead of just taking the slip of paper, Rebecca pulled out the entire arrow.

"This just keeps getting weirder and weirder." She said.

"What now?"

"Look." The arrow's tip was shaped like a heart, covered in blood, and had some sort of substance covering the point. "Yeah. We better take this." Rebecca put the arrow in a bag, and stepped over bodies to get back out.

"You know what I think?" She asked Doc.

"What?"

"I'm pretty sure Hauser will know something about this." She said, facing forward and continuing walking.

**So what do you think? Please R&R! :) **


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

*Disclaimer: I still don't own any characters but Vivian!

"Where is he?" Rebecca asked, frustrated. "We have been waiting for over an hour, and he is _still not here_."

"He must be pretty busy. I think he is where the inmates are. Wherever that is." Doc responded.

"That is something else he needs to tell us." Rebecca muttered. Just then, the door whooshed open, and there he was. Finally.

"Hauser. Finally. We found something important. We think it's another sixty-three. But we're not exactly sure." She said, glancing at Doc, and then pulling the bag with the arrow out of the bag slung over her arm.

"I was afraid this would happen. And obviously it is happening now." He took the bag, turned around, and gestured to the conference room. "Come with me. Both of you." Rebecca and Doc exchanged glances, and then followed him in.

Once they were all seated, Hauser pulled a file from the briefcase he was holding and set it on the table. They all just stared at it for a moment.

"Is this an inmate file?"

"Yes. It is. But look." He flipped it open. On the first page was an entering prisoner report, with a young woman's mug shots paper clipped to the page. She was smiling in a way that was unerving as she clutched the little board with her number on it.

"What? What the heck was a _girl_ doing as a _prisoner_ on Alcatraz?" Rebecca asked, clearly shocked.

"That is the sixty-three we are dealing with now. Number 2067. Vivian-Antoinette Blanch. She was in her early twenties when she disappeared. She is extremely dangerous, by Alcatraz standards, and was kept mostly a secret."

"Which by Alcatraz standards is pretty dangerous. But what does she have to do with the arrow?" Rebecca asked again, still in shock.

"That is one of the ways she killed. Or _kills_, I guess, now speaking. She also worked as an highly paid. . . assassin, if you will. She is also quite handy with a knife, in terms of throwing and accuracy. So, that basically means that her strong point is aim, with a bit of physics."

"This just keeps getting weirder and weirder." She muttered, shaking her head slowly as she read through the file. "You've been awfully quiet." She said to Doc.

"I just can't believe that after years of researching Alcatraz, and all its inmates that I didn't come across any of this. They did a really good job keeping this secret."

"Huh. They really did. Well, what about the arrow? There's something besides gold paint and blood on this thing."

"Yeah, I suppose there is." Hauser said, leaning over it to see. "We should go get this tested." He then stood up.

"Yeah. I suppose we should." Rebecca said, standing up as well.

"Wait." Doc said. "Just a quick question."

"Yes?" Hauser sighed.

"How did she _get_ to Alcatraz anyway?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

***Disclaimer: Vivian is the only character that belongs to me! I do not own any other characters! **

Alcatraz – 1960

Two guards, one on each side, led Vivian-Antoinette down the main cell block. She hated it. Not only were the cat-calls and whistling in her direction driving her crazy, but her uniform was far to big, and she was stumbling and sliding all over the place when she stepped on the feet. A couple of cretins in Alcatraz prison were whistling and yelling crude comments at _her_ anyways. Vivian wasn't exactly pretty, but _interesting-looking_ or even was a better was to describe her appearance.

She had an angular jaw line, with cheek bones that were predominant, but round. Her chin and nose were equally as round. Her eyes were deep-set, which allowed shadows to be case under her eyes. She was on the short side of the average height, and rail thin, with no curves what so ever. Upon first glance it was more of a slap to the face than anything else.

"This is your cell. Make yourself at home." One of the guards said, and then they looked at each other and laughed. "Good luck sweetie. You're going to need it." They laughed again, and then left, the cell door slamming shut. She blinked a couple times and then turned around. The cell wasn't _that_ bad. She had a bed, and a sink. And a curtain thing taped to the shelving system- type thing. She walked over to the curtain and peeked behind it. There, in the dark of the curtain was a toilet. _So they somewhat care about my safety_, she thought. She dropped the curtain and walked to the door, and looked out. She could see a hand of the neighbor to her left, which was clad in some sort of ring, but nothing of her neighbor to the right. She sighed, and then sat on her bed. It felt like someone had stuck matzo balls in a mattress frame, and then covered it with a sheet. She poked at the pillow. Not to bad. She reached into her shirt and pulled out her necklace; a miniature hourglass on a chain.

It was made completely out of silver metal, with three columns that gave it a rounded triangle shape. It had small jewels around the border, and one four-petal flower on both the top and bottom. She held it in her hand, and turned it over, the white sand sifting. She sat like that for a while, until she heard a voice.

"Open number sixty-six!" A man yelled. She saw another two guards stand at the entrance to her cell, number sixty-six apparently. She stood up, and then slipped on her pant leg again, and flailed wildly for a bit, the sleeves of the two-long shirt flapping, until she regained balance and shuffled to the door.

"For God's sake, roll up your damn pants!" One of the guards yelled. She bent down and rolled them up, exposing her socks. They hadn't yet been able to get the standard issue boots in her size, so she was stuck in socks for the time being. At least she wasn't barefoot.

"Warden and the doctor want to see you, Princess." The same guard who had yelled at her for the pants said. She was lead out of her cell, and she padded down the block sock-footed until they came to some sort of interview room.

"There she is!" A squat bald man that resembled a fish said. This must be the Warden. Next to him was a crotchety man smoking a cigarette, and sitting at the table was a woman with soft curls and a stressed expression.

"Sit." She said. The woman had a pleasant voice, the kind that would be good for something like storytelling. The guards pushed her into the chair.

"Hauser, Milton, thank you. Come with me." Warden Fish Man said, and led them out of the room. It was silent for a moment, and then the woman spoke again.

"I am Doctor Lucille Sengupta. You are Vivian-Antionette Blanch, I presume." Then the questioning began.

"Do you know why you are here?" She didn't answer, just sat there silently.

"Do you know why you are here, in this room?" She remained silently.

It went like that for every single question. Vivian sat and just stared, not answering or even nodding. Then the guards came back in, led by the Warden.

"How is she doing?" He asked.

"She hasn't responded to any of my questions. Not even nodded."

"Let me try." The Warden said. "What do you think of my glorious prison?" He said, while spreading out his arms. Vivian just stared at him blankly, and then faced forward again.

"She hasn't answered to anyone. I'm going to ask one more question, and then she should go back to her cell." Lucille Sengupta said calmly. She cleared her throat.

"What can you tell me about your string of killings? Such as the ones with the arrows, and the occasional knife throwing." Everyone was silent. Vivian then folded her fingers together as best she could, and sat back.

"I aim for the heart." She said. Then the guards escorted her out of the room, with her words still ringing.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

***Sorry it has taken so long for me to update! I have been extremely busy as we are now starting to study for finals, which consumes the majority of my time. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, except for Vivian. So don't flip out on me or anything of that nature.**

Vivian ascended the steps of the apartment building with a sort of grace, her shoes clicking and crunching the stone under her feet as she went. She glanced at the watch on her wrist. Right on time, as usual. She walked around the corner of the apartment building's hallway, glancing at a piece of paper as she went. Apartment 73. Seventh floor, third door to the left. The light overhead flickered as she stopped in front of the door to number 73. She shoved the piece of paper into the side pocket on the bag she had on her back, and then knocked as politely as she could muster. The door opened, and a man opened the door, with a woman standing a little ways behind him.

"Could I have a minute of your time?" She said, looking up at him, and then smiling.

About twenty minutes later, Vivian was dragging a body across the floor of the apartment, her hourglass necklace swinging like a pendulum. She was dragging him from where she had killed him, the living room, to where she was supposed to leave him; the kitchen. She had already dragged the woman into the kitchen, and placed her where she was supposed to go. And that was the easy part. The man was heavy; almost twice her size and he had been easier to kill than to drag. She then turned the corner, and stepped onto the tile of the kitchen, taking a moment to pause and catch her breath before resuming the transport of the corpse.

It had all been too easy, really. They didn't even question who she was until she was standing over the two of them with one knife in her hand, and five others tucked into her belt. Only two had been used, which was expected. She didn't miss her mark unless she wanted too.

She finally dragged him into position, and then began the setup. The anonymous voice on the phone told her to make it look like it was a violent-fight-leads-to-suicide ordeal, and she was determined to make it look that way. She had already rubbed their finger prints all over everything, and now she just had to dispose of her white, blood stained gloves without arousing suspicion. But, she had already decided to do the fun part first.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

She stood on the roof of the apartment building, near the railing with her bow out and a plethora of arrows at her feet. She removed a container full of clear liquid and mounted it onto the railing. She carefully removed the lid and set it down on the floor. She then took off her necklace and hung it from the railing. Vivian picked up an arrow, dipped the tip in the container, and strung it. She pointed her foot out in front of her for balance, and the leaned forward to get a better view. Then, she turned over the hourglass and began shooting, softly singing to herself as she went. She shot arrow after arrow in the same fashion, swirling it around, and then shooting it. She had shot about twenty, and then she looked back at the hourglass. All the sand had moved from one side to the other, signaling time was up. She smiled and then peered over the precipice at her doings down below. Not bad. Not bad at all. About twenty people this time were on the ground, her new personal best. She kept singing as she packed up her things, and then walked back inside.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

***DISCLAIMER: I do not own anyone but Vivian. (Like I have said before. . .)**

**Sorry it has taken me so long to update! I have been busy busy busy! Here is the first of the new chapters that focus more on her past. Enjoy! XX**

Alcatraz – 1961

Vivian had no idea why she was dragged from her cell yet again, and this time _in the middle of the night_. She was completely clueless on anything that concerned her, and life here was pretty unpredictable, but she had managed to maintain her plan. To perfection, she decided.

She was sitting on an examination table in the hospital with a bowl of strawberries on her right, and the warden, two guards, and both doctors to her left. They were watching her, waiting almost for her to do something. What that something was exactly she had no idea. So, copying their actions, she watched them watching her.

"I heard you like strawberries." The warden said. Shadows were half-covering his face and it was really creeping her out. Vivian gave a nervous nod, unsure where this was going.

"Well, those are for you." She glanced at bowl, and then back at him not sure what to do.

"Go ahead." Vivian was hungry, she didn't eat dinner as it ended before she was done sorting her food. She picked up a strawberry from the bowl and sniffed it. She didn't detect anything but the scent of strawberries. She used her freakishly long thumbnail, (she hadn't trimmed her nails in who knows how long and had taken the time to meticulously sharpen them into a point, making them dangerously sharp), and used it to slice the top of the strawberry off. She flicked the waste on the ground, and sniffed the inside of the fruit. Again, nothing. She decided against her intuition to give them the satisfaction of her eating the strawberries. Yes, it was a bad idea. She knew that these people were just as, and if not more crazy than she was, but she came to the conclusion that maybe she would be allowed to go back to her cell sooner if she ate one. So Vivian-Antionette took a bite. She winced as the cold fruit hit her teeth and tried to make it seem like she suspected nothing. The five of them continued watching her.

About fifteen minutes and five more strawberries later, nothing had happened and Vivian started to relax. She picked up another strawberry, popped the top off, and bit into it. The juice for some reason was staining her lips, but she just dismissed it. She started to feel weird, but couldn't put her finger on what exactly wasn't right. Her head felt fuzzy, and she was slowly going numb. She looked over at the five other people in the room, but couldn't make out anything but black shapes. Vivian squinted, trying to see something other than colors.

"We spiked the strawberries." A voice said. A fuzzy black curtain rose up in Vivian's vision, slowly blacking out the room. Her hearing was just as muddled as her sight, nothing but snippets and monosyllabic sounds. She tumbled off the table, and hit the ground just as the curtain fully consumed her sight.

ooOoo

"Can you hear me?" A distorted voice said from somewhere far away.

"Vivian Blanch? Number 2067? Can you hear me?" The curtain had lifted slowly, and now there was a mass of colors swirling like a kaleidoscope instead. She thought the voice belonged to Dr. Sengupta, as it was female. But, her hearing wasn't completely normal. There was a faint ringing sound in her ears, and it _hurt_. She blinked. And blinked again. And again. And again until her vision was only double, and then until the two duplicate images became one, and clear. She was right. The doctor moved out of her vision, and from her position on the cold floor, Vivian assessed her surroundings.

She didn't know where she was. It wasn't the hospital, nor her cell. It was a cold, dark cement room, with a small target on one side, on far on her other an equally petit shelving unit. She pushed herself into a sitting position. Vivian, unsure of what to do now, took a tendril of hair into her hands and nervously played with it. She had no idea where Dr. Sengupta went, or if there was anyone else in the room with her. Her questions were soon answered.

"I see you are awake." The warden. She cringed, and whirled around. Sure enough, the entire gang from the hospital earlier was there. She climbed to her feet, and faced them, dropping her hair.

"Why don't you take a look around." She turned back around, and walked to the shelving unit slowly. Her breath caught when she saw what was on the shelf.

Her recurve bow. Her _exact bow_. With it's exact gold paint, cursive writing, and rhinestones. She picked it up. Next to it was a plethora of arrows, none of them dangerous much to her dismay. She grabbed one, strung it on the spot, and shot it at the target. Bullseye.

"We thought that letting you do this would enable you to recover memories, and therefore answer the questions we have for you." It was Dr. Sengupta's voice again. She ignored her and shot another one. And another.

And that was basically how the rest of the endeavor went; the warden and doctors asking her questions, Vivian ignoring them, and continuing to shoot arrows at the targets. Until one question that Vivian heard that caught her attention.

"Miss Vivian, what I do not understand is if you already killed plenty, and got payed copious amounts doing it, but why on earth would you do this as well?"

Vivian stopped. She lowered her bow and set it back down on the shelf.

"Target practice." She said. Vivian then sat back down in the middle of the room, watching them and not answering any more questions. When they were done interrogating her yet again, Dr. Milton got up with the two guards and walked over to her. The guards held her down as a shot was jammed into her arm. She thrashed about until the same effects as before took over, and her world yet again went black.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

***Disclaimer: I don't own any original characters, so don't seize.**

**Aaaaannnnddddd a special thank you to all who reviewed! I take them to heart. :) **

"There is nothing. _Nothing_."Doc huffed. He was back at the computer, scrolling through the results on a search engine.

"What are you looking for?" Rebecca asked, pulling away from Vivian's file and going over to look. She had found something she found interesting; a hand-drawn picture of a pair of sad looking eyes which were surrounded by a pair of odd-looking spectacles.

"I'm trying to see if I can find any more information on Vivian. But there's _nothing_." He kept scrolling. "Wait. This could have some information." He clicked.

"Just kidding this is someone's MySpace."

"I wouldn't bother." They both turned around. It was Hauser, and trailing behind him was Lucy.

"The guards and staff at Alcatraz tried very hard, and managed to succeed in keeping Miss Vivian a secret." Lucy said, stopping in front of her open file.

"But why? Why would they go to all that trouble? I mean-" Rebecca started.

"We can talk about this later. We have more important things to discuss." Rebecca shot Hauser a look for interrupting. "We got the test results back for the arrow." He handed the folder to Rebecca.

"It said that the substance on the tip was hydrochloric acid, which is very corrosive to human flesh. So that makes the arrows all the more dangerous. Speaking of which, we need to leave."

"What? Why?"

"Now." He said.

They arrived at yet another gruesome crime scene. Arrows were protruding from more bodies, thus raising Vivian-Antoinette's modern day death toll by a lot more.

"When she shoots, does she do it sniper style, or on the ground?" Rebecca asked Hauser as he passed her on her right. He turned to face her.

"I'm not quite sure. But I'm assuming she would do it similar to a sniper. She would rather be up high then on the ground."

"Why? What was she scared of?"

"Floods." He responded and then walked away.

"What?" She muttered to herself. She then looked up at a building that was casting a shadow near the crime scene. It was definitely high enough to look down at the area, but not too high to not be able to shoot a bow with enough accuracy to kill. She stepped over a couple of bodies to get closer to the building. The door then opened and out came a young woman. She had her back to them, and was walking away with a bag slung over her shoulder.

"Hey this is a crime scene. You shouldn't be over here." Rebecca called. The woman turned around to see who was addressing her. Then it clicked. After staring at that smiling mug shot, Rebecca knew who this was.

The almost waist-length hair. The delicate features. The white skin.

Standing in front of them, on the other side of the street was Vivian Blanch.

"There she is!" Rebecca yelled, and then started to give chase. Vivian turned and ran as well, away from the crime scene and down the street. She was surprisingly fast in kitten heels, and she tore down the street, dodging people and cars as she went, Rebecca following suit. She had pulled out her gun about a block back, after noticing that Vivian had a knife or two tucked into the belt of her dress.

"Stop!" She yelled. "Stop!" Of course, Vivian did not stop. She kept running, and then disappeared around a corner. Rebecca ran to the corner, and then turned, and she was gone.

Rebecca was tired. She tried to give chase again, but couldn't. She had lost her. But, at least she had a physical description to bring back, instead of the grainy mug shot that came with the file. She walked back to the crime scene, where Hauser and Doc were waiting for her.

"Well?" Doc asked. "Did you catch her?"

Rebecca shot him a glance.

"If I did, she would be with me right now, wouldn't she?" She responded. "Did you find anything else?"

"Yes." Hauser said. "There were two dead in a top floor apartment, both with knifes to the heart. There was another note on an arrow, and the same substance is on the arrows."

"Okay. Well that helps a little. What does the note say?"

"Well, what does the first one say?" Rebecca pulled the note from her pocket, and Hauser did the same.

ROSES ARE RED, VIOLETS ARE BLUE

YOUR COMING FOR ME, I'M COMING FOR YOU

The first one read. The second read:

I CAN RUN, AND I CAN CERTAINLY HIDE

DON'T BOTHER CRYING

BECAUSE I'M STILL ALIVE.

"Well, Vivian was quite the poet." Hauser said after reading both notes.

"Really?" Rebecca said, almost sarcastically.

"No." He said, and then started to walk away. He turned around again. "Did you read that? It's horrible." He said, chuckling to himself as he kept walking.

"Wait, where are you going?" Rebecca called. She had intened to ask about the drawings of the eyes - she believed them to be drawn by Vivian - but now she couldn't.

"I think I know where I might get some help."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 – The Eyes

***Disclaimer: Vivian is the only character that I own. (Sometime I make people up and stick them in there, an example is the guard 'Milton' in a previous chapter, and the guard 'Jenkins' in this one, but I don't count those as OC's.)**

**I actually gave this chapter a name! I am now very proud of my self. This is the second chapter of the new past chapters that I am now creating. Get ready for some. . . PLOT TWISTS!**

Alcatraz – 1962

Vivian was quite proud of herself. During her boring time in her cell, which was usually spent trying to coax conversation out of her neighbor, she had discovered yet another talent of hers. She considered herself multitalented, because being skillful with two weapons means that you have two talents in her eyes.

Her new found 'talent' involved her twisting and contorting herself into various positions. She would have called it contortion, but she decided that certain title was reserved when someone would perform it with grace, and fluid motions. Vivian's style however was filled with sickening pops and clicks as she folded her limbs into frightening poses. But she was still proud of herself for discovering that she practically, in a figurative manner, had no bones or limbs to restrict her movements.

_They_ still kept trying to coax words out of her and it had gotten progressively worse. The questioning sessions had been almost daily now, but she had stuck to her plan religiously. She was done speaking, saying "target practice" the other day was the last words she had to say to them. But she would not give them the satisfaction of her voice. Not now. Not ever.

She was currently half on the bed with her rear end resting on her head and her feet on the floor, when the cell door opened. Again. She was getting real sick of the interrogations that went on. She had no idea what they wanted from her, and why it was so necessary for her to speak. She had just unfolded herself from her head-sit with two pops and a crack when she was grabbed roughly and practically thrown from her cell. The guards, one of them Hauser, led her down to the same room she had been more than a dozen times in the past two weeks. The usual suspects occupied the room, and they observed her with the usual expression of disdain. Vivian was planted in front of Doctor Sengupta, like usual, and she expected them to start asking her ridiculous questions.

They didn't.

The six of them, she now counted as the Assistant Warden had made his appearance, just stared at her in silence.

"Miss Blanch, we have all noticed how you fail to answer almost all of our questions. So, I have devised that this will be the last interrogation you will endure during your stay if you answer the question we have set for today." Dr. Sengupta told her.

Vivian was shocked. She had not expected this possible outcome, but her chances were slim if she never wanted to do this again.

"We have been informed that you have planted a box somewhere in the continental United States that hidden inside is several valuables that are crucial to not only you, but your past as well. We believe that not only does it contain items, but massive amounts of the fortune you, Vivian, have attained while performing as a hit woman for high amounts of profit. So, you should now understand why it is so important for us to find it. However, you need to tell us where it is." There was a pause.

"So the question is . . . where have you hidden the box?"

Vivian had seen this coming. She had known that there was no was for the inescapable to become escapable. But indeed this was part of the plan. The majority of it. And she knew exactly how she would answer. She mimed the action of writing with her hands and hoped it would get her somewhere. It did.

Dr. Sengupta pushed a pad of paper in her direction with a pencil resting on top. Vivian took it and pulled it close to her and started scribbling, not letting anyone look at what exactly she was putting onto the paper.

ooOoo

About fifteen minutes later, Vivian was finished. She gently tore off page that contained the information, placed it on the table, and pushed towards the other six.

She had drawn a pair of sad-looking eyes encased in ornate spectacles. The rest of the page was completely blank.

The six of them looked down at her with disapproving expressions. Some of them looked borderline livid. Obviously they had no idea she had just told them the where-about of her precious box.

"I do not think you understood the question."

Vivian was incredulous. How could they be so daft as to not be able to understand what information she had just divulged?

"I'll handle this one." The Assistant Warden said, leading the five others out of the room. He took a couple steps closer to her. Quite frankly she was freaked out. She had heard rumors amongst the other inmates that he was the _worst_. Worse than the guard Jenkins with the violent tendencies down in B-Block. And most certainly worse than the Warden himself when it came to punishment. She tried to make it look like she wasn't as afraid as she was, but Vivian knew she wasn't the best when it came to playing pretend.

"I want you to listen to me, and listen well 2067," He started. "You have made this entire circumstance more difficult than it needs to be. All you need to do is tell us where the box is." He finally hissed.

She decided to answer in writing. She still had the paper pad in her lap. This way she wouldn't mess up her plan, and avoid severe punishing for not speaking.

_I did tell you where the box is_. She wrote.

"No you did not. All you did was draw a pretty picture. And call me sir."

_I will not call you sir_. She wrote.

"And why ever not 2067?" He sneered down at her.

_I reserve that title to people I respect_. She wrote back.

"That's it." He said. He grabbed her by the collar and practically dragged her out of the interview room and into the main area. She figured it was to publicly humiliate her, but she had been wrong before.

"I will not stand for defiance. I demand respect! While you are here, you have no name. You are just a number." He yelled. "All of you are just numbers!" He yelled again but this time at the other inmate watching the scene from the safety of their cells.

"Take her to solitary." He snapped as her shoved her in the direction of some fast-approaching guards.

She did as she was told and let the guards lock her in a dark cell. This was only her second time, she counted, which was pretty good considering her neighbor ended up there about three times a week for making stupid decisions. She was amazed that the episode that had just occurred even occurred at all. That definitely was not part of the plan.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

***Before I start the next chapter, I have two things to say!**

**1. Fox. What the heck Fox? You can't just go around and cancel our show like that! When I saw that it had been canceled, I was furious, and thus decided to make this fic as BEST as I possibly can. **

**2. Reviews! Thank you to all who review this story! Every time I check my e-mail and see that notification, I get that tingly I-just-might-pee-from-excitement feeling. So thank you so much! :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone but Vivian! (If I did Alcatraz would still be on.)**

Vivian had ducked behind the corner of a building as fast as she could after being chased by that blonde cop. Vivian _hated_ running. Especially in shoes as ridiculous as black suede kitten heels. She had ran from people far to often to enjoy it. However, she loved it when people ran from _her_. It made her feel empowered. She stood in the dark alley, pressed up against the wall until she neither heard nor saw her presence pass. She looked up. This was also the alley she was supposed to meet the phone voice for her commission. She usually didn't do the whole pay later ordeal, but this time she made an exception. Vivian had wanted to use a knife on someone for a while now, and she jumped at the first chance to get to do so. Unfortunately, it involved the current back alley deals to get the $60,000 cash she was owed.

"Glad you could make it." A voice cut out of the dark.

"Well, you didn't think I wouldn't come to collect my pay, did you?" She responded.

"No. Of course not. I'm not stupid."

"Neither am I." She said, crossing her arms. "Hand it over."

"Hand what over?"

"Don't play dumb with me. You know exactly what I am here for. Now hand it over so I can leave."

The voice chuckled, and then stuck a manila envelope into the light. She took it and opened it, rifling through the bills, counting them. The sound of a boot turning on the hard ground came from the direction of the voice.

"Wait." She said. The sounds stopped.

"What is it princess? I don't have time to wait."

Vivian rolled her eyes.

"This is only fifty seven grand. We agreed on sixty."

"Well negotiations change sweetheart. You should know that."

"No. I did the job, and I did it well. You give me sixty thousand dollars or else."

"Or else what?" The voice sneered.

"I'll kill you and take the thousand from you."

"You wouldn't-" The voice was cut off. Vivian had pulled a knife from her belt and flung it, hitting him square in the chest. She walked over, bent down, grabbed the knife, and twisted it. He screamed in agony as she twisted it twice more. Then he was silent. She was about to wipe the blood on her dress front, and then second guessed her self. Instead she wiped the blood on his jacket, and reached in his pockets, searching. In the inside left pocket of his jacket was another envelope. She opened it. One thousand dollars. Perfect. She stuck both envelopes in her bag and walked out of the alley and onto the main sidewalk; her green lace dress swishing and her heels clacking as she hummed to herself.

"I wonder if Ernest came back?" She asked herself as she strolled down the street. She considered it a possiblity, as nothing was impossible. She just wished she could see him again.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

**Disclaimer: I do not own any character but Vivian! She is the only one who belongs to me.**

Emerson Hauser was back at the Alcatraz replica. He sat in an interview room with an inmate across from him. Ernest Cobb. His hands, cuffed, are placed on the glowing white squares of the table. He is staring at his hands, while Hauser is staring at him.

"What do you remember about her? Did she tell you anything?"

"Who?" Cobb asked.

Hauser sighed.

"I know you know who I am talking about. Vivian-Antoinette Blanch. Number 2067. Now stop trying to evade the questions. You're being difficult."

Cobb was silent.

"Come on. Answer the question."

"I don't remember anything."

Hauser rolled his eyes.

"You don't remember or you don't want to remember?"

Cobb went silent again.

"I don't remember anything."

"That's a lie. You were practically the only one she talked to. You have to know something."

"Well, she would always sort her food into different sections on her plate."

Hauser sighed again.

"I guess that's somewhat of a start. Anything else?"

"She killed another inmate."

Hauser sighed yet again.

"We know that. But the answers I am looking for are more about personality than what kinds of things she did while in prison. Did she tell you why she killed him?"

"Wasn't it pretty obvious?"

"I will be the one asking the questions, thank you." Hauser snapped. "Just tell me why."

"She didn't like anyone to say anything about certain subjects."

"Like what." Hauser said flatly. "What kind of subjects did she not like people talking about."

"I don't know."

"Oh come on."

"I don't want to talk about her. Please."

"Just try and tell me something else about her. Just try." Hauser was clearly getting aggravated, as the conversation was getting him nowhere.

"Vivian . . . she always wore that damn hourglass around her neck. She would just sit there, her mouth slightly parted . . . and . . . just turn it over and over. She would be so engrossed it that she wouldn't notice anything else."

"See? It's not that hard is it. Why did she do that, turning it over and over?"

"I don't know."

"I know you know"

"No. I don't."

"She talked to you all the time! What did she tell you? Anything?" This was going in circles, and so far _no_ useful information had been told – except for the part about the hourglass. That was somewhat useful. But not very, it seemed.

"That doesn't mean that I listened! I just tuned her out! I didn't want anyone talking to me, let alone her."

"What did she do to you that made you so . . . upset?" He asked in an escalating tone as he raised his hand from its position on the table, now propped on his elbow. Cobb then glanced up at him for a couple of seconds, and then looked back at his hands.

"I really don't like to revisit it."

"Oh. That's right!" He said, chuckling. "I remember now. She really freaked you out didn't she? But you got your revenge. Why are you still mad?"

"She had no right to . . . just. I don't know."

"Well when we catch her, you can work things out. Thanks for no help." Hauser said. He slammed Vivian's file open, with her picture facing Cobb before leaving the room in a huff. Cobb leaned farther back in his chair and stared at the picture for a bit, until he could no longer bear to have her looking at him. Then he turned away.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

* * *

I am going to add more chapters from her past! Currently working on that now. :) CORRECTION! NEW PAST CHAPPIES HAVE BEEN ADDED AS OF 7/11/12! (This chapter is going to be a long one, sorry.)

**Disclaimer: I do not own anyone but Vivian! **

Alcatraz - 1963

Vivian for the most part was not enjoying her stay at Alcatraz. The reasoning wasn't necessarily all of the other creepy inmates, or the intimidating warden. It was mainly the fact that it was an island. She had escaped from prison once before, and she wasn't scared to try. It just was the whole concept of being on an island that freaked her out. She had no where to go if she even made it out. She was in a sense, stuck. Her freedom was what she missed most.

But one good thing had come out of her incarceration. She had, in her opinion, found sort of a friend. He didn't really talk to her, or answer all of her questions, but he wasn't as annoying as the majority of the other idiots she was forced to be around. The only things she found remotely annoying about him was the fact that he was always trying to get himself sent to solitary. She for one hated it there. She liked to be alone, but solitary was just not her cup of tea. But when he wasn't locked up in solitary confinement, he occupied the cell next to her, number sixty-five. Ernest Cobb.

She considered him a companion, she would sit with him at meals, when they were outside, and attempt to make conversation while just sitting in their cells.

Unbeknownst to Vivian, Cobb found her more irritating than Yapper.

It was dinner time, and Vivian sat on the end of a table in the mess hall, pushing her food around with a spoon. She had been doing that for over five minutes, and still wasn't satisfied. A couple of people watched her with weird expressions. Vivian was sitting by herself, as Ernest had managed to weasel his way into solitary confinement yet again. She was almost done picking all of the cheese pieces out of her potatoes when another inmate came up behind her.

"Organizing your food again Princess?" He laughed. Vivian just looked at him, then turned back to her food.

"How come you never talk to me?" She remained silent. "How come?"

She sighed.

"Quite frankly it's because I think you're an imbecile." She responded. This was one of the rare times she actually talked to someone besides Cobb, and several people around her grew quieter at the sound of her voice.

"Look at you using big words that no one knows what they mean." She rolled her eyes.

"It means that she thinks you're stupid." The inmate across from her said. She shot him a glance.

"Well. Is that so? Well lets see how stupid you think I am after I'm done with you." He said, grabbing her hair and pulling her up from the table. She struggled to stand up, as she was slipping in her socks. (Eventually, the administration had given up on the quest for the standard issue boots to fit her dainty little feet, so socks in prison it was.) Finally she regained her balance, and stood up straight. She looked up at him, tensed and freaked out. He then backed up a step, running into the table. A glass of water tipped over, and trickled down the table and onto the floor. It formed a small rivulet, and oozed across the floor. The water touched Vivian's sock, soaking through it and touching her skin. At the feeling, she shrieked and jumped back. Her attacker laughed.

"Afraid of water, there Princess?" He sneered, and then laughed again.

Vivian-Antoinette had had enough. She grabbed the knife from her place and flung it as hard as she possibly could. It hit him in the heart, but didn't puncture the skin as deep as she wanted. He stepped back, but slipped in the water and hit the ground instead. She pounced, making sure to avoid the puddle on the floor. She grabbed the knife, and shoved it down as hard as she could, twisting it as well, clearly enjoying the pain she was causing. When he was quiet, she stood up from the ground and went to go back to her food, when two guards approached her.

"Not so fast 2067. You're headed for solitary." They each grabbed an arm, and started to escort her out of the mess hall.

"But my food. . ." She said softly to herself. That was what made her most upset. She had just spent the majority of dinner hour carefully sorting her food; the meat away from her salad, and both of those away from her potatoes. She had even picked _each individual cheese bit_ out of her potatoes and put those off to the side and away from all the other foods, and now she didn't even get to eat it. And now she had to go sit in a dark hole away from everybody else. Vivian was madder at herself than anything for allowing herself to kill someone during dinner.

The three of them, well now five when she realized that the Warden _and_ the assistant Warden had been following them. The door to solitary flew open, and one of the guards pushed her in.

Ernest Cobb had been enjoying his time in solitary confinement when the door flew open and a guard, Hauser he believed his name was, had shoved that annoying girl Vivian in. She had been following him around nonstop, and wouldn't leave him alone. She was one of the reasons he kept trying to force himself into solitary.

"What the Hell?" He practically yelled at the open door. He could laughter coming from outside. The door started to close, and she whirled around, trying to get out.

"Wait! No! I can't be in here! I have to be-" The door slammed shut. "By myself." She finished quietly.

Cobb was in a state of bewilderment, with a hint of anger. All he wanted was to be alone. After a brief period of time, he finally spoke.

"Why are you even in here?" He asked, with a hand gesture that would go unseen in the dark.

"Well. . . I killed someone at dinner, and then they brought me here and I thought I was going to be alone, but apparently not." She said, looking at what she thought was the ground, but couldn't tell in the dark.

"Just sit down. In the corner over there, and don't talk. Or move. Just be quiet." He said, trying to keep himself calm. Not being able to see exactly where she was unnerved him, and he wanted to make sure she didn't sneak up on him or anything. This situation was really making him paranoid, Vivian as well. He could hear her as she stumbled backwards into one of the side walls, and then slid down it. Her clothes made wretched scraping sounds against the floor as she shifted around.

"Do it quietly! Please." He snapped, and then the scuffling stopped. It was quiet. Finally.

It had been blissfully quiet in the cell for a long while. Occasionally, Ernest had forgotten that Vivian was curled up in the corner opposite him, and relaxed. But sometimes she had tried to make conversation, but he would shut her up before she had the chance to try and keep talking.

"Ernest?" Vivian's voice rang out in the quiet cell, making him jump.

"What." He said flatly. There was hint of tiredness in his voice, which made Vivian feel the need to speed up the question she was about to ask.

"Do you have . . . any fears? Like, fears that other people see as irrational?"

Cobb sighed.

"No." He said. Well, he did, but he wasn't ever going to tell _her_ that. "Do you?"

"Yes." She paused.

"Well, what is then?"

"Water." She whispered.

"What?"

"Water." She said louder.

"What?" He said, incredulous.

"Water." She said again.

"No, I heard you. But why?"

"I don't know. It freaks me out. It really does. That's why I hate it here. I'm surrounded by it. And I hate the rain, that freaks me out. And I hate when I step in it, or it touches me in any way, and-"

"Okay. That's enough."

"Sorry." She said, and then grew quiet again.

Water. He could not believe it, really. Well, I mean he could see her being afraid of it. It made sense for her to be afraid, but he couldn't picture say, himself freaking out over water. It seemed so irrational, for someone to be afraid of something that is essential to life. But, Vivian herself was irrational so then again, it made sense. He didn't let it bother him though, it was finally quiet again and he was going to enjoy the silence.

The door flew open, the light temporarily blinding both of them. Cobb looked at the corner where Vivian was the whole time, and saw that she was curled up in a ball with her back to him. She covered her face with her hands when the light hit her face, and after her eyes adjusted she slowly stood up. She stumbled at bit, and then grasped the wall before her head could smash into it again. Ernest stood up as well, in case he was the one to leave, or even both of them.

"Come on. Both of you." The guard said. He could see the relief pass over Vivian's face. He, however, was not as pleased to leave as she was.

"Come on! We don't have all day!" The guard was mainly referring to Vivian, who was standing dumbly, blocking the door. She turned around, and walked towards him. What on earth was she doing? And then she was close, _way to close_, and she then did the unthinkable.

She kissed him.

Not hard, or rough by any means, but gently. Then she backed away and walked out.

Cobb was mad. Mad didn't even begin to cover it. Livid was more appropriate. Freaked out would also be an accurate assumption. But mostly mad.

He was so furious that was practically shaking. He made a mental list of all the things she had done to make him so mad.

First, she had followed him around like a lost puppy, a really annoying lost puppy, the whole time she had been here.

Second, she invaded his stay in solitary.

Third, she was not completely quiet during said stay in solitary.

Fourth, she had invaded his personal bubble. No, invaded wasn't accurate enough. More like invaded, then popped, then lit the remains on fire and danced on them after shooting them in the heart with his own bullets. That was more appropriate to describe the situation.

The guards eventually had to go into the cell and pull him out he was so shocked and angry. So when they led him into an interview room and questioned him about things Vivian might have said, he answered them willingly.

"Open number sixty-six!" Vivian opened her eyes. Her cell door was opened, and she was escorted out. As she was leaving to where ever she was being taken, she saw Ernest being escorted by two different guards on his way back in. He avoided her eyes, and just stared straight ahead. She looked down at the ground, concentrating on taking steps of equal distances. They led her to an examination room near the hospital, where she was told to sit on a table. In the room with her was Dr. Sengupta, Dr. Beauregard, the Warden and Assistant Warden, and now her and the two guards. An area of the room was sectioned off behind a curtain, and Vivian wondered what was behind it. Dr. Sengupta nodded to the guards, and they opened up the curtain to reveal a tub full of water, big enough for a person to be submerged in. Vivian tried to keep her façade, but it was too late. They had already seen the flicker of fear cross her face.

"So the rumor is true." Dr. Beauregard said. He nodded towards the tub. "Lets see what happens, shall we?"

The guards walked towards her, and that's when Vivian snapped. She scurried backwards, trying to get away from them, but succeeded only in flipping backwards off the table. They came up behind her, and in a desperate attempt to get away, she dragged her self across the floor. But they had already grabbed her, and she started screaming at the top of her lungs and shouting 'no' at the same time. Each guard had an arm and a leg, and they dropped her in the tub, holding her under. She kicked and flailed while she was under, and when they let her come up briefly for air, she screamed and sobbed at the same time. Her cries carried all the way to the main cell block, and reached the ears of a certain Ernest Cobb. He felt some what bad for what he told them after hearing her scream like that, but told himself to forget about it.

They had let her come up from air twice, and each time the doctors made note. The guards let her go to come up for a short breath of air, but when they let go she didn't come up.

"What's going on?" Dr. Beauregard asked.

Lucy peered over the edge of the tub.

"Oh dear." She said.

"What?"

"Have a look." Vivian had lost consciousness, and was suspended in the water.

"It appears she blacked out from fear, and probably lack of oxygen. How rare. I believe she suffers from Chronic Water Phobia. Take her back to her cell please." Lucy told the guards. They pulled her sopping body out of the tub and carried her out of the room, and down to her cell. Her hair and clothes created a trail of water leading to it.

The inmates watched as she was carried down the main cell block, and it had grown silent. Cobb saw her as her cell door opened and she was placed inside, and then the guards left. He gulped.

He had messed things up.

**Sooooo we finally know what Vivian did to Cobb to freak him out, and what cripples her with fear! Sorry it's long; I felt that it was needed. :) Please R&R!**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

***DISCLAIMER: I do not own anybody but Vivian. But I'm guessing you knew that by now. **

**I have decided to try and update more, as I have more time on my hands than I thought. It was hard though as I temporarily lost my flashdrive. Don't worry, it's been found . . . in a puddle of water from a leaking snow globe. **

**Thanks for all the reviews you lovely people! Me and my kitty, who is my writing buddy, are thrilled! :) AND NOW LET THE STORY CONTINUE! **

oOo

Rebecca and Hauser, with some help from Doc, had narrowed it down to two options, the first being going after Vivian, the second being to just wait and see if she came to them. The latter was not likely, Hauser pointed out, as she was always one to lie in wait. Unless or course she was using knives on defenseless people in their apartments.

"I vote that we just go after her. We can see where she has been killing, and maybe figure out where she will go next." Rebecca said.

"But what if she surprises us instead of the other way around?" Hauser countered.

"It doesn't matter how we catch her, it just matters that we catch her. She's shooting people with arrows tipped in hydrochloric acid for God's sake."

There was a pause.

"What if it appears that only one of us is there, but we surprise Vivian by having backup?"

There was another pause.

"You know, that might work. Pass me that map." Hauser said. The map was laid in the middle of the table. On it were four stickers, one at the site of Vivian's first killing, the second at her second killing, and the last two, smaller ones was placed where she had killed two people in alley ways.

"Well, I don't believe that the people in the alleys count as one of her real killings. All of her killings are premeditative, and covered up well, but these were not. So remove the stickers." Said Hauser. Doc peeled the sticker off the map, and now there were two white fuzzy marks where the stickers had been.

"Pass me that ruler." Rebecca said. It was handed to her, and she placed the zero on the sticker that marked Vivian's first killing.

"Look. It's exactly five inches away from the second one. There is no way that wasn't planned."

"So go five inches away from both." Hauser told her. She did, marking the location as the top of a tall office building.

"Well. We have our location. Just when?"

Yet another pause.

"Tonight." Doc said.

"What?"

"Both of her 'real' killings were exactly three days apart. Three days from her last killing is today."

It was silent as they absorbed the information.

"Then we better get going."

oOo

The three of them were parked in a black SUV about a block away from the building. So far there was no sign of Vivian, and the three were arguing over whom got to follow her into the building when the time came. Rebecca argued against Hauser going, as Vivian would have no trouble recognizing him as one of the guards who bore witness to her torment, and Hauser argued against Rebecca as she had chased Vivian once before and also due to the fact that her uncle would have an aneurism if anything happened. Not that that fact had stopped Hauser from sending Rebecca into dangerous situations before, but still. It was good argument.

After about ten minutes of intense quarrelling, a figure started to approach the building. It was Vivian. She was holding in her hand what appeared to be a smart phone, and was randomly jabbing buttons and tapping the screen trying to figure out how to work it. Clearly exasperated, she shoved the device in the side pocket, glanced around, and made her way towards the entrance of the building. Before anyone could say anything, Rebecca slipped out of the car and stealthily made her way after her. It was go time.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

***I know! It has been a long time since I updated, and I greatly apologize. I have been working on this chapter for a while now, and I want it to seem perfect. It was originally going to be one long chapter, but it grew to be over eight pages long. So now it will be multiple in order to save your sanity. :) **

She had lost her. It was horrible to think, and undoubtedly more horrific to speak, but Rebecca had managed to lose Vivian yet again. This time, the elevator was to blame. She had seen Vivian step inside, and it start to go up, but Rebecca had no clear inking of what floor she was making her way towards. And she couldn't have gotten on the elevator with her. That was sort of a death wish.

So here she was, now on floor seven of the twelve. As she peered cautiously around the corner from the stairwell, there was no sign of Vivian, but a door was open about halfway down the hall. Gun in hand, Rebecca made her way to it, and gently pushed it open wider. Inside was a sight more horrific than she had seen in a while.

There were two bodies on the floor of the living room, both with the Vivian trademark of a knife to the chest. Both of them were obviously killed in a hasty fashion, and there was muffled crying coming from a closet in the entry hall. The window was open, broken but with no traces of glass, with the splattered white curtains billowing in the wind. Rebecca turned to a side wall. Written on it with smears of red blood was 'come and get me'. She turned to the closet and pulled the sliding door open. Inside was a child, curled up in a towel streaked with tears.

"Did you see who did this?"

The child nodded.

"Did you see where she went?"

"The window. She went out the window." The girl whispered.

"Is there anything else about her that you wish to tell me?" Rebecca asked the girl gently.

"She told me to wait in the closet. She also told me to tell you something."

"What did she want you to tell me?"

The girl shifted uncomfortably. She fidgeted with the edge of the towel, and mumbled something inaudible.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. Could you say it again for me?"

The girl nodded.

"She said to tell you that she knows. And that your time is running out. Tick tock, tick tock." She said cryptically.

"Thank you. More help will be here shortly. Stay where you are."

Rebecca quickly ran to the window and looked up just in time to see a foot slip over the railing of the roof. _It had to be Vivian_. Rebecca thought. _No one else is crazy enough to climb up a building_. Rebecca turned away from the window and ran out of the apartment. She pulled out her phone and dialed Hauser.

Besides when Rebecca had fled the vehicle earlier that afternoon, Hauser had been having an uneventful day. He had just been sitting in the SUV with Soto and watching the building when all of a sudden he saw something weird. What appeared to be a young woman in a pink dress was climbing out of a window around the sixth floor. She was wearing what also appeared to be white opera length gloves that were very red, mostly around the hands, with a large black bag slung over her shoulder. And to make things even more weird, _she was starting to climb the building._ Even worse, upon closer inspection it seemed to be the very sixty-three they were after.

"What the Hell is going on in there?" Hauser practically yelled after slamming his hand on the dashboard.

"Are you seeing this?" He hollered at Soto, who was leaning over and watching Vivian's spider like progress up the building.

"Yeah sir. Pretty impressive actually. One of the most interesting getaways I have witnessed so far."

"She's crazy, we know. But I want to know what in Dante's Inferno Rebecca is doing and why the _Hell _our criminal is scaling a building." Hauser fumbled around in his pockets and the various compartments of the car looking for his phone when it rang. It was Rebecca.

"Yes." He said, trying not to sound angry.

"She's already killed two. There's a child hiding in the closet of room 612, where the bodies are. I saw Vivian go up on the roof. She climbed the damn building."

"That part I can see. I just saw her go over."

"I'm going to need back up. Not quite now, but later definitely. I have no idea what other crazy stunt she is going to pull."

"Neither do I." There was a slight pause. "I am going to go get back up. It might be a bit, so hang on."

"Can't you just call it in?"

"Not this time. Hold tight." He pushed end, ending the call. He had an idea, a crazy one, but an idea none the less. Hauser reached to turn on the car, when a conversation from outside his open window caught his attention.

"What do you think of the book so far?" A girl asked.

"God forbid. I don't get like any of the symbolism. What does a pair of spectacles with eyes allude to? She's crazy if she thinks we are going to understand any of this crap."

Hauser heard their voices start to get farther away. Thinking on a whim, he opened the door and jumped out.

"Wait!" He called after a pair of two teenagers walking down the street. He jogged a bit to catch up with them.

"What book are you reading?"

"_The Great Gatsby_," The girl said slowly. "Now get away you pedophile. Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Well, yes. But I have one more question."

"Spit it out old man. We have things to do."

"Yeah whatever. What do you mean by the spectacles?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Dr. T.J. Eckleburg, duh. Haven't you read the book? Just look it up." The two of them started walking away again.

"Thank you. And I'm a cop by the way!" He called after them.

"Whatever." He heard her say.

Dr. T.J. Eckleburg. It had been a long, long time since he had read that book, and a lot, a lot of events had happened to make any trace of it slip his mind. He jogged back to the car. This back up might take a while.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

As Rebecca ascended inside the elevator, she was thinking of what might happen when she encountered Vivian. Would she have a gun? Throw knives? After practically watching her climb up the side of a twelve story building, anything was possible with her.

The elevator pinged. The doors opened. She had arrived at the roof. And it was quiet. A little too quiet.

In front of Rebecca lay a hallway that led to the rest of the roof. She held her gun out in front of her as she walked slowly, one step at a time. She couldn't see to the left or the right, which was concerning. Vivian could be anywhere. Rebecca had reached the end of the hallway. She slowly stepped out of it's shelter and turned to the right.

Time stood still. Before Rebecca knew what was happening, there was a hand on the back of her leather jacket which yanked her backwards. A foot roughly kicked the back of her knees, causing her legs to collapse. Rebecca stumbled to the ground, picked herself up, and then whirled around only to get a bony knee in the upper stomach. Her breath was knocked out of her and the gun was wrenched from her hands as she was thrown back on to the ground. She felt a sharp, dulling pain on the back of her head. Then it all went black.

Rebecca opened her eyes. Her vision swirled into view, rocking and spinning. Her hands were bound together to the top of the railing, and her feet were tied on opposite sides of her. It was impossible to move, and her head ached. Fog had started to roll in, which was making her swirling vision even more dreamlike. She could see Vivian, who was sitting in front of her in a poofy pale pink cocktail dress, while wearing an old gas mask. Fog swirled Vivian in and out of her vision. She was hunched over a glass container, which was fuming intensely. That explained the gas mask.

"What is that?" Rebecca asked. It didn't feel too good to speak.

"Hydrochloric acid my dear," She responded, raising her hand in a dramatic flourish. "It fumes quite a bit in moisture I'm afraid." Her voice was altered through the mask, making her sound like she was speaking through a crackly intercom.

"I have big plans for this beaker." She spoke again. Vivian held it up to the remnants of the light and then she stood up. She walked almost like she was floating, and the dress helped. Vivian then sat to the left of Rebecca, and set the beaker down between them.

"My first plan is to make my mark." She pulled a knife out from behind her. Its handle looked to be made of ivory, and the blade was so shiny that Rebecca could see her reflection in it. Vivian twirled it with the tip on her finger and the handle between two of her fingers on her other hand.

"What do you know about knifes?" Vivian asked.

"Not much, actually." Rebecca said. It was the truth. She had been called to numerous stabbings, used them in the kitchen, and knew the blade was sharp. But that was about it.

"Well, the tip is primarily used for detail work. The edge is used for slicing, obviously," Vivian pointed to each of the parts as she spoke. "The heel is used for cutting large, tough objects. Usually used when more force is needed. My knifes are all forged. They are considered superior. All of them have full tangs. It provides you with better balance." She tossed the knife in the air, it flipped a couple of times, and she reached up and caught it by the handle.

"Thank you for the anatomy lesson." Rebecca said with sarcasm.

"You are very welcome." Vivian responded with equal enthusiasm. "But, the demonstration is the best part. You have come to know me, right?"

"I guess."

"So you know that I am no amateur." Vivian swirled the knife in the beaker and then pressed the tip of the knife into Rebecca's left forearm. She dragged it up and down, creating a cursive 'V'. Rebecca held back a hiss as the acid burned in the open wound.

"I do not slice and dice people as though they are pieces of meat. I do not hack away at individuals like a one-armed lumberjack that is heavily intoxicated." She finished writing Vivian and moved on to Antoinette after dipping the knife back in the beaker. "I elegantly carve humans into something different. Not so much in this-" she paused looking for the right word, and finished carving her second first name and moved on to her last. "_unique_ era because the people in it are cheap and do not have an appreciation for dismembering. Just a knife in the chest does the job. But in my heyday, I was free to pursue my callings." Vivian crossed the t with an vicious flourish, and dotted her i's with miniature stabs. Her name was now scrawled in old-style cursive in an angry dripping red. She admired her work then jammed a large cork stopper into the beaker. Vivian got up and walked away.

Rebecca's arm hurt. It burned like hell fire, and so did her head. She had been inhaling the fumes from the acid, and the effects were starting to kick in. Rebecca was also trying to figure out a plan. She knew that Vivian had plans for her, and they probably involved a knife. Rebecca decided it would be best to not try to engage in conversation. It seemed wise to let Vivian do the most of the talking, and hope she divulges more information on the 63's. Her phone was in sight, laying with a roll of knifes, the acid filled beaker, and now Vivian's discarded gas mask. There was an X written on the ground in black marker. Upon closer inspection of the roll Rebecca could tell one of the knives was missing. The one used on her arm had been wiped clean of blood and was back in the roll, shining like a miniature mirror. Rebecca pulled against her bonds, and tried to break free. It was hopeless. The handcuffs on her hand's were not about to come loose. She wiggled her right foot some more, and could feel the tension on it lessening. She pulled a bit harder, and the rope gave a bit more. Rebecca turned forward again to see if Vivian came back, and to her surprise she was sitting against the wall right in front of her. She had a larger knife in her hand, and was sharpening the blade.

"I've heard a rumor about you and your little team."

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. Vivian nodded and gave a little smirk.

"It is that you are looking for something."

Rebecca looked away.

"So it's true."

"I didn't say it was true." Rebecca said.

"I am perfectly aware that you did not say anything. But, I have a pretty good judge of. . . feelings."

There was a long pause.

"I think I have what you may be looking for. Is this it?" She said in a voice feigning innocence. Rebecca watched as Vivian pulled from the mystery chain that joined her hourglass around her neck a key. The key. The third key. Rebecca tried not to show that Vivian was right. That she had indeed been looking for the small object that was dangling around her neck.

"I have a hunch that I am correct." Vivian said with another smirk.

She left the key hanging around her neck in plain sight for emphasis.

"Do you know where I woke up? Fifty years in the future?"

"I do not."

"I was in the cemetery, lying on the grass in front of a grave. It was mine. Lying next to me was an envelope. I opened it. Inside was this key, and a note. The note was simple. All it said was a number for a P.O. Box, and a message that read 'Don't mess this up'. It was not signed, but I know who it is." She winked.

"Who?"

"I am not going to say. It is part of the fun."

Rebecca saw this coming. But it was worth the attempt.

"Fifty years it has been." Vivian dragged the knife down the sharpener. "Fifty years. Everyone thinks I am dead. Do you know how I 'died'?"

"I do not."

"I think it was the day that I remember. I was at Alcatraz of course. I knew those guards were planning something the moment they came into my cell."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

Alcatraz, 1963

Vivian was sitting in her cell, like any normal day. She was humming a song to herself, and had her ear pressed against the wall next to her bed to try and see if she could hear any signs of Ernest in the next cell. So far she had heard nothing. She figured it was just because of the thick walls. She lifted her head off the wall when she heard a guard shout. It was the directive to open her cell door.

She uncurled her legs from her chest when it started to slide open. What did they want with her now? Hadn't they done enough? She got up from the bed and stood at the back of her cell. Two guards burst in. One of them stood at the door and watched as his partner grabbed her roughly by the arm. He pulled out a syringe filled with a familiar looking substance. Vivian tried to make a break for it. But there was no where to go. The guard with the needle grabbed her by her waist and pulled her to him. She kicked and thrashed and tried to scream. But it was no use. She could feel the needle in her side. It was obviously a larger dose than the two she had been given before. They were smart. They knew her body had already built up immunity to small doses. This must be the end of one thing and a start of another. She could only guess what it was.

The guard let go of her waist and grabbed her arm instead. He dragged her to the entrance to her cell, where the other guard took her other arm.

"What was that?" He hissed to the guard who had stabbed her.

"Just act surprised."

"What?"

"Act. Surprised."

The effects of the substance were starting to kick in. Her vision was spinning and she could barley walk. The guards were literally dragging her. She could hear them telling her things, probably to 'get up' and 'keep walking'. Vivian couldn't take it. The drug was taking over. She collapsed to the floor and could tell they had barely made it to the middle of the hallway in front of her cell. She was on her back, and the cold floor felt nice on her hot skin. She turned her head in the direction of the cells on the right. Vivian could see Ernest sitting on his bed. He hadn't come to the front to watch as many of the other inmates did. His head turned towards her. The two of them locked eyes. And the last thing Vivian saw before the blackness took over was Ernest Cobb turning away from her.

The guards had bent down next to the unconscious Vivian on the cell floor. The one with the needle checked her pulse. It was beating, but slower than usual.

"No pulse." He said, looking up and making eye contact with the guard on the other side of him. He looked unsure, then pursed his lips and looked down.

"No pulse." He said quietly. The guard with the needle nodded.

"Come on. Let's get her to the infirmary." He pulled Vivian up off the floor and slung her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Her arms dangled towards the floor like a doll, and her hair hung down as well, shielding her face. Almost all of the inmates were standing at the front of their cells, watching as the two guards and the 'dead' ward made their way out of the main cell block. The precession made its way to the infirmary. The door opened. Inside were the Warden, the assistant Warden, Lucy and Dr. Beauregard. Vivian was laid on an operation table. The assistant Warden locked the door.

"Ah. Your time has come." The Warden said, pushing the hair out of her face.

Present Day

"So you see, I am not dead. I am very much alive. How old do you think I am?"

Rebecca shrugged her shoulders. She was trying to figure out her story. They must have been preparing for her transition.

"Well. I should be seventy. But I suppose I am encased in youth at the ripe age of twenty-one." She laughed a bit. "I celebrated two birthdays in prison. I was only nineteen when I went in." She ran the knife across the sharpener, and the scraping sound echoed across the roof. From far away sirens could be heard. Rebecca hoped it was back up. She could tell her time was ticking with every scrape of the knife. The sirens were getting closer, she could tell. And so could Vivian.

"Ah. Is that backup I hear?" She said, putting the knife and sharpener to the side, and started leaning closer to her. "Did you call it in?" She tilted her head to the side and pouted a bit, still advancing. "You can't handle me by yourself I see. Well that is quite alright because I can make do with the time we have left together." Vivian leaned back and grabbed the knife again.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"Inevitably yes. But our time is quite short, so I will have to make some adjustments."

Vivian carefully slipped the knife back into her bag.

"I will not personally kill you. But there will come a day when you may wind up with a knife wedged deep into your flesh. The blade will be barely visible. Your vision will spin and your body will tingle and burn at the same time because the life is dripping out of you in small drops of ruby red liquid. The gems will gather and stain. It may very well be the end." Once again she leaned in as if to emphasize her point. "But know that if that happens, it will be at my hand because I have wished for this over and over again. If the universe decides to be kind to sweet criminals like me, then this will happen because I wanted it. My wish will be granted."

"How can you tell?"

"I am a good judge of the future."

Vivian picked herself off the floor and started walking towards the railing. The fog swirled around her legs and sometimes concealed her completely from view. Rebecca pulled and pulled on her loose leg, hoping to get it free. Finally, it did. Her leg swung out and connected with Vivian's bag in front of her. Rebecca's phone flew out and skidded across the ground. She stretched her leg to its full extent, but was only able to touch it with her toes. She scuttled it around in order to push it closer. She succeeded. Her phone was now in front of her, and she was trying to dial a number using her foot. She looked up to see Vivian start to climb onto the edge of the railing. Rebecca's attempted dialing became frantic, Vivian knew too much she _had_ to keep her alive. Maybe this was some sort of weird illusion Vivian had planned, but she didn't know for sure. Rebecca cursed the police department for issuing them touch screens, and kept pushing. Finally, she could hear the phone ringing, and Hauser's muffled voice on the other end.

"I think she's-" Rebecca looked over to see Vivian standing on the top of the guardrail on the balls of her feet, arms outstretched to her sides.

"Oh my God she's going to jump." She finished frantically.

"What are you doing?" She yelled to Vivian. "Stop! Don't do it!"

"You are not going to change my mind. And besides, you can just rip the key off my dead body. You will get what you want." She turned her head to face Rebecca then turned it back forwards. She took off her hourglass necklace and looked at it before swinging her arms back to the sides. As it swung Rebecca could see the sand was all in the bottom chamber. She whispered into the phone for him to hurry, but couldn't hear a response.

"Time has run out." The necklace swung, glittering in the last hint of sunlight as a cloud blocked it and rain began to fall. Vivian tisked before she resumed speaking in her slow methodic voice. "But I still have one more person left to kill. Myself."

Vivian went even higher on her toes, then tilted forward and went over, arms outstretched, her dress and hair blowing against the wind. Rebecca was screaming as she disappeared over the edge and into the fog. She had just lost a valuable piece of evidence.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

As Vivian fell, she had realized she was now vertical. She looked up. Water hit her face and she resisted the urge to scream. All was calm. She could see her necklace still firmly clasped in her hand. All was calm. She was closer to the building than was planned, but that was alright. It would all be over soon. All was calm. Vivian was looking down when she saw a hand emerge from the open window of the room where she had killed earlier. She was almost upon it and before she knew it the hand was grasping her wrist tightly. She felt the other hand join it. Vivian was now hanging like a pendulum from the window of the seventh floor. Her plan was dashed. She looked up to try to see who had caught her, but her vision was blurred by the amount of rain that was presently gathering in her eye sockets. So she moved her eyes down towards the ground. She could see police officers, what appeared to be a camera, and her Mary-Jane clad feet dangling high above the ground.

Vivian was never afraid of heights. She had been climbing up the sides of buildings and other assorted things all her life. She had only stopped for a brief period of time when she fell four stories down off the side of her low rent apartment building at the age of fifteen and landed on a fire escape. Luckily she had only broken her wrist and bruised her tailbone. Her foster parents had called her a medical miracle after that incident. That and stupid for climbing up the brick building.

She was moving now, being pulled up through the window. She caught on the edge of the open window and felt the hands let go of her wrist and grab her under her arms instead. She was now on her back on the floor on the soft carpet lying on someone else's blood stain. Her vision was swirling. Vivian could make out several people standing above her. One was older, and looked familiar. One had a pony tail. One also looked familiar with glasses and curly hair. The other was standing behind the latter with a stern face. All of them were swirling around in her vision like a kaleidoscope.

Then it sunk in.

She was wet.

She was covered in _water_.

Vivian started screaming.

She screamed and screamed while lying perfectly still on the carpet. Her hand was still clutching her precious necklace, and her long pointed nails were digging into the palm of her hand, drawing blood. Her blood trickled down her arm and mixed with the stain on the carpet, deepening the red. The people above her stumbled back from shock of the sudden change in volume.

"Cuff her. Take the key. It's time to go." Hauser said. "And get her to shut up would you?" He left the room after slamming his hand on the living room wall. He could hear a couple of people telling her to 'shhh' and 'calm down'. He heard one person say 'it's just water' followed by him getting a swift kick to the stomach and Vivian getting her leg pinned down. One of them was sitting behind her on the floor whispering in her ear. Rebecca was standing in the hallway rubbing her wrists.

"Hey."

"Glad this is almost over."  
"What do you mean over, she's been caught." Rebecca said with an arm gesture in Vivian's direction.

"It's never finished even after they've been caught again. Especially not in her case."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you remember that drawing we found in her file? The one with the eyes?"

"Yes."

"Well, I found out that the drawing does give a location. She was right all along."

"Where exactly is it?"

"In New York."

Rebecca went silent for a moment.

"Why would she be hiding it in New York?"

"I don't know. But all that matters is that we know where it is."

Vivian was being dragged out of the room. She had finally stopped screaming, and was how handcuffed. Her necklace was still clutched in her hand, and dried blood spiraled its way up her forearm. She turned around to face the two of them and gave an almost sinister smile.

"Just like old times." She said as an officer pushed her back to get her walking again. They watched as the doors in the elevator closed and Vivian Antoinette-Blanch was once again out of sight.


End file.
